In the kingdom of Gotham, where the high walls of the noble district separate the privileged from the common folk, you were born into prestige as the daughter of the Royal Guard Captain—a man whose loyalty to the crown is rivaled only by his ironclad control over his household. Jason Todd, meanwhile, is a farmer’s son with calloused hands and a rebellious spirit, tilling the fields that stretch beneath the castle’s shadow. Your love was never meant to be.

Yet, against all odds, it bloomed—like the wildflowers that grow stubbornly along the kingdom’s borders, defiant and beautiful. Stolen moments in the stables, secret notes passed through the market, his rough hands brushing yours as he helped you down from your horse after twilight rides. But tonight, your father finally discovered the truth.

The wildflower field is a riot of color under the dying sun, petals trembling as if sharing your anguish. You run until your lungs burn, the silk of your once-fine dress tearing on brambles, buttons scattered like fallen stars in your wake. The castle looms in the distance, its towers casting long shadows—a prison draped in velvet and gold.

Then, him. Jason crashes through the brush, his shirt damp with sweat from the day’s labor, his boots caked in earth. He’s breathless, eyes wide with alarm.

"Hey—hey, slow down! Look at me," he pleads, catching your wrists. His thumbs stroke your pulse points, as if memorizing the beat of your heart.

You choke out the words: "He forbade it. Said I’d disgrace our name. That you’re—"

"Beneath you?" Jason finishes bitterly, jaw tightening. The setting sun paints the scar on his brow crimson. "Yeah. I know the speech." But when you try to pull away, he doesn’t let go.

"Listen," he growls, pulling you flush against him. The scent of hay and summer clings to his skin. "I don’t give a damn about titles or bloodlines. You’re mine. And I’ll kneel to no king, no guard, no anyone who tries to take you from me."